Gundam SEED: Red Eternity
by General-Commissar
Summary: SEED AU. Focused on many dark projects of the LOGOs. Human greed and obsession led to the ability to destroy itself. But they played God, 1 step too far. Now there are some greater than any hero... and darker than any demon. Strong Violence/Language, OCs.
1. Prologue

**Gundam SEED: **_**Red Eternity**_

**Prologue**

'Well then, subject Sebehk, Kashiib. ID number 0032, Bavadius labs: correct?'

Kashiib continued to look straight ahead, not daring to look his administrator in the eyes. The old man continued:

'My friend, Master Freeman here, has informed me that you are one of the few who chose to stay and prevent the recent "schism" from getting any worse than it did.'

The administrator opened a small paper file on his desk in front of him, his eyes slowly scanning the information before him. The administrator was a business man somewhere in his late forties, wearing a tailored and well fitting suit and with short hair that, although greying, was clearly once very dark brown.

'According to this report I have received you were the one that helped to maintain our control over the security station, which allowed us to effectively suppress the "schism" and prevent anything from leaving the facility,-' The administrator looked up at the young boy in front of his desk.

The boy had been unnecessarily hand-cuffed _and_ placed under an armed escort of ten soldiers. Ridiculous. The boy couldn't have hurt him or them if he was unbound and unescorted because he was far too loyal.

The boy's hair was short and dark brown. His eyes were something that the administrator had never seen though, not even with Co-ordinators. The irises shone a brilliant jet-black, and were admittedly quite fascinating and certainly unique. At the moment though, his eyes showed clear traces of fear. The poor child was only eight years old.

The administrator continued;

'Is that true?'

The small boy before the desk swallowed and nervously said 'yes sir' before falling silent once more. After a few short seconds of regarding the boy in front of him he closed the file and handed it to another boy standing to his immediate right. Then he slowly leaned back in his chair and put his hands over his eyes.

'Then return to your cell and await further instructions' he said, and immediately the soldiers turned around and escorted young Kashiib from his office.

Addressing the boy to his right he asked the question at the front of his mind, in a tone fitting of a conversation between gentlemen. 'I do trust your advice Jonathan, please don't misunderstand, but are you sure this is the answer to our predicament?'

Jonathan was himself only nine and his appearance was almost the same as Kashiib's, although the hair was a slightly lighter shade of brown, and had natural chestnut high-lights. His eyes were different too. Currently they were a dull, colourless black, a _matt_ black if you will. The cold colour of his eyes was reflected in the cold, blunt and unemotional tone in his voice and the seriousness upon his face.

'There are many answers to the "predicament", sir. What I have suggested is merely the best of them.'

'If any subjects from this experiment survive it may effectively end my role as one of the Logos. So how does preserving any subjects _possible_ help me?'

Jonathan's expression and tone remained unchanged as he opened Kashiib's file and began reading through it. 'If you kill all of us then that will also waste all of the funding spent on this little endeavour. However, if we can recover and effectively use some of the survivors then we can justify some of the funding allocated to the project. The more successful subjects we have, the more funds would be effectively "salvaged". That is why it is in our best interests to "salvage" as many of us as is practical, sir.'

The administrator sat up straight and took a thin, long cigar box from the desk, producing from it a long cigar which he then placed in his mouth. 'But the other benefactors don't have the ability to reason as I do, Master Freeman.'

'I know that already, sir. The simple answer is thus; when the other benefactors threatened to cut the project's income, you were forced to abandon refining the research. Because of this I believe only gene-synth unit two was properly upgraded, which, if my memory serves me well, was the unit that created five of the seven survivors including me, and those two _not_ from the same unit have since been disposed of for aggression towards staff.-'

Jonathan closed the file and, for the first time that day, looked the administrator directly in the eye. '-It was their reluctance to pay for the process to be properly researched and refined that has caused this situation.' He then opened another file with "Project: Extended" written on it and began to read through that as he continued: 'And as if that didn't save you, this has come along with perfect timing. We can simply transfer the survivors to this new project as a method of giving it a "helping hand", and may even save more resources… Sir; we have found your salvation.'

The administrator nodded slowly while removing the cigar from his mouth. 'And what about the project that has already failed? There will be records, you know.'

Although Jonathan Freeman's statement sounded like an innocent question, the message was clear:

'What records?'


	2. Armoury 2

**Part 1, Chapter 1: Armoury 2**

The wind seemed to rustle the leaves on the many trees around the edge of the park with almost loving tenderness, though the scene was somewhat spoiled by the view. They were, after all, on a hill overlooking the high-street from only a dozen or so yards away.

"Well they seem happy with themselves, don't they…" he paused, smirking to the young man next to him for a brief moment, before continuing: "…wouldn't you say _colony boy_?"

"…And I suppose it's rather ironic, isn't it."

"Well there you have it! Colony boy, _you_ are going to give this operation some beef: I just know you **far** too well."

The man stood up, rubbing his hands together as if excited, and proceeded to exhale loudly before picking up a rifle scope and a half-emptied can of lager. Then he turned around to address another two that were with him.

"Am I the only one that _doesn't_ feel like an EMO TODAY!?" He exclaimed loudly, holding the scope and can in the air with outstretched arms, emphasizing the question with his gesture. Then he turned around again while putting the scope in one of his pockets, simultaneously taking a well-enjoyed belt of lager. He looked back at the boy sitting down next to him.

The boy was young, fragile. 'Well emotionally, at least.' He couldn't help but think to himself. Physically he was strong, well built, fairly tall, healthy…

That was only as long as he still had 'that' left. Of course, 'that' was only one thing:

Combat Drugs… which reminded him:

"Hey, Sebehk: you'll need some in a minute, won't you?"

"Yeah, I got a good while though. I haven't even started to sweat yet."

He just nodded in response to the last sentence, and then looked at the boy again. He couldn't really be called a boy, could he? No, he was too old now, more of a young man. He only thought of him as a boy because of the 'big brother' relationship he seemed to have with the others…

He decided not to dwell on such things and instead took another belt of lager, finishing the can, before tossing it in a bin almost four metres away.

He allowed himself a small smirk: 'swish'.

He looked back at the crowd in the High street below, and any trace of enjoyment left his face immediately. They didn't know a thing about the future. Their lives were full of desires and uncertainty, and they coped with it…

But he didn't.

"Hey, Bro! We're going. You can stay if you want, but I never knew you were into Waist-Elastic-Strainers _that_ much!"

At least that snapped him out of his chain of thought; otherwise he could have missed 'All the Fun'.

He turned around and began to walk after the others, taking the very moment he looked back in their direction as a chance to shout one of his many infamous, and almost legendary, phrases:

"**BUGGER OFF!**"

As he caught up with his three associates his mind wandered back to the crowd. All those people were happy with their lives, and were blissfully unaware of the world's darker truths. They knew nothing.

Armoury Two was going to die.

* * *

The man sat at the table outside a café enjoying the weather. The sun was shining brilliantly (or so was the illusion within the colony), yet it was cool and breezy. Probably one reason why Naturals were so jealous and resentful of Co-ordinators: Co-ordinators _made_ things happen, while naturals left everything to fate's fickle hand. Stupid.

He took a sip of coffee and looked back up at the ridge several dozen metres across from himself. He had seen a small group of people there earlier, but they had since then vanished.

There wasn't anything seriously unusual about them, but he noticed the three of them were dressed the same: completely black clothing, except for what looked like the one's trousers.

What really stood out though was that a fourth one appeared to be dressed in a suit of armour much like a medieval knight's but with a modern/robotic look to it, and was clearly taller than the others. Although he had only seen him at a distance he guessed the individuals height to be no less than two-and-a-half metres.

He was about to take another sip of coffee when he heard a commotion behind him and, instinctively, turned to satisfy his curiosity. Most of it he didn't quite catch, but he did hear a man shout the words "… Blue and Normal World", followed by a very loud "boom"… or rather, he _felt_ a very loud "boom".

He would have sworn at the natural for ruining his lunch hour, but the shock robbed him of his power of speech…

And then the bomb-blast scattered half of his head across the street.

* * *

He just kept staring at the fence, turning his head side to side to follow the perimeter of the base.

A sight that brought back a memory.

A ten-foot fence, the top covered with razor wire, the area bristling with military police. Just like the training scenario…

"_Each team is to penetrate this compound in turn. When it is your team's turn you must infiltrate the mock complex and make your way to the command post…" the scientist pointed to a large flat-pack building that had been erected in the centre of the mock facility "…over there."_

_The building wasn't far away, only having a couple of fake hangars between it and the fence. Though he knew that distance was about to get larger._

"_To simulate actual garrison-defence-personnel we will be using Combat Simulation Drones. These drones will act as mock infantry."_

_A large parade of CSDs left one of the hangars and slowly split up, each one taking a different route, until every single one seemed to have found it's own routine and had begun following it._

_Drones, he bitterly reflected, were the worst things in the world, in his books at least. They were good for training purposes, added variety to the weekly scenarios, and you could even rip the living piss out of them without fear of reprimand. But whenever drones were involved with a daily activity he instantly knew he would have to work for his food that day._

"Hey Seb', you ganna gawp at men all day or what?"

He turned around to face the man shouting. He knew who it was instantly, not needing to recognize by voices.

"**Bite my Ass Freeman!**"

He started walking off towards the others, smirking to himself as he went. Old Freeman always lived up to his standards, that much you had to admit.

He always had a completely black full-length leather trench coat which, when caught in the wind, gave the impression of being sort of a cloak. He also wore a plain black T-shirt, and very dark grey/black camouflage trousers, with footwear being high standard military combat boots. Same old J-N.

He did admit to himself that Sabnack and himself weren't any better being dressed in the same manner, except for the camo-trousers. He himself just wore plain black military trousers. He saw them as being far more tasteful if nothing else.

"_If one of these drones sees or hears you then they will either shout or activate the base alarm. When that happens the mission is failed. Also, if a drone wanders upon an "eliminated" drone they will immediately shout, thus failing the mission."_

_He had to hold in a sigh of relief: a stealth mission, and thus, no "blitzing it". At least he wouldn't have to do that much. He didn't really feel like it today._

"_You will now gather in your assigned teams. Team ICs will have all other details and will go through the preps with you."_

_At that everyone looked towards the ten individuals standing in a line to the right of their parade, all stood at ease. His eyes scanned the line for a certain 'individual' and after a split second, he found what he was looking for. Most of the extended had hair no longer than shoulder-length, and would always take combat practice as the life-and-death situation it was to them._

_He, however, didn't._

_Subject Kashiib Sebehk, 19, Earth Alliance Extended, now held in a smirk of amusement. 'Same old J-N alright; purely SOSDD' he thought to himself, 'same old J-N.'_

As he moved towards his friends he noticed a voice was saying something ahead of him, but he didn't quite hear _what_ was said. He did, however, hear Freeman's response:

"Exactly like old times mate; fresh from back in the day."

As he approached the others the casual atmosphere about them caught up with him.

Sabnack spoke next: "Yeah. Back in the lab days, right guys?"

Freeman jumped in at that point. Taking on a mock-macho pose and an accent intended to be 'imitation: old-geezer' he stated:

"Back in my day if yer got shot you wouldn't pansy around with "_oh i've been hit!_", yer'd get up 'n' deck the bastard fer ruinin' yer good shirt."

This made all the others laugh for a moment before the individual next to him, an 8ft 7inch tall Humanoid machine, added his own comment:

"N' that's bloody accurate too!" the comment causing the group to laugh even harder, if only for a moment.

_Jonathan Freeman's general appearance was almost never what would be expected of a member of the extended project._

_His dark, brown hair was long, at chest length, and currently kept in a pony-tail. Normally he would wear darker clothes that could somehow create an atmosphere of militaristic authority. At the moment though, he was wearing a pair of knee-length Hawaiian shorts and a loose Hawaiian Shirt, topped off with beach sandals, sunglasses and a cup of coffee, of which he was taking a small, teasing sip in the scientist's direction. The scientist didn't even notice, which forced Kashiib to give a wide smirk of amusement, although he kept the laughter in as hard as he could._

'_Damn, Freeman has a hell of a sense a humour!' he thought to himself._

_The scientist continued: _

"_Team leaders: you have the rest. Now _MOVE!"

Kashiib Sebehk looked about at the soldier approaching his group. On the mercenary's face was the expression of indifference and boredom, which had become natural for him over the years, the expression making himself appear less suspicious. He calmly turned his head back to his friends and spoke with a voice composed of boredom and mild annoyance:

"Looks like we're on working hours, lads."

They all then leant down to the large instrument cases in front of them, opening their respective cases to gather their weapons. As the soldier approached he called out to them: "What are you doing here!? This is-"

The guard was cut short by a sickening crunch paired with the sound of a hard, wet impact. Even shock didn't have time to register on his face as the machine's fist passed through the left side of the poor man's skull. As the soldier quickly fell to the floor Freeman pulled the last of his weapons from the case before him, taking the scope from his pocket to attach to the rifle in his other hand. Then, in an amused/entertained/impressed tone, addressed the warrior droid.

"Nice one Damius. Poor asshole never even saw it happen!"

The machine raised his right hand from where the guard's head used to be, fresh blood dripping from his fingers onto the concrete paving.

"Yeah, being mechanical does have its advantages." Damius said while picking fragments of shattered bone from the joints of his now crimson fingers before he continued.

"Gimme a hand here Cash."

Kashiib turned, crouched down and said "Sure" in a dull, monotone voice before grabbing the module base from the case in front of the droid. Damius' case, for the record, was roughly the size of a grown human. As he lifted the item from the case he reflected that it must have been fairly heavy for a normal human, even a Co-ordinator, but he lifted it with both ease and grace. After the module base and ammo-feeder units had been fitted in place on the droid's back Kashiib looked down, and a small frown worked across his features before he reached down and then effortlessly lifted the objects that had brought the expression.

In his hand he held two sets of steel tubes held together by rings of metal and a rail that ran the length of each of the 5-foot long sections.

They were the front halves of two different sized gattling cannons. What's more, they looked rather aggressive, like they belonged more on an Anti-Aircraft Emplacement rather than an infiltration mission.

Kashiib turned his head to the droid and let his thoughts show upon his features. The frown had disappeared and had given way to a quiet smirk while his eyebrows arched like an inverted Golden-Gate bridge. The expression was soon countered by Damius' calm, clear voice:

"Intel states there's large numbers of quick response units, including military police. I'm providing covering and suppressing fire."

Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Damius', Kashiib tilted his head down slightly, as if regarding him over invisible specs, while his left eyebrow lifted even higher. He then lifted the set of barrels in his right hand up to head height, bringing the object into the question. There were seven barrels in all, obviously designed for 9mm rounds, which would be useless against the rapid response mobile suits of the facility.

"Oh, _that_! It comes as standard with the module… suppose I just wanted to have some fun really."

**End Chapter**


	3. GTMS pt1

I do not own Gundam Seed or Gundam Seed Destiny and this is only a fanfic, NOT an OAV… Yet

**Part 1, Chapter 2: GTMS (Grand Theft Mobile Suit)**

Even in the shelter of one of the most secluded corners of the base, the sun shone brilliantly. Brakashdul was standing outside the fire exit to the hangar that housed the two new mobile suits ZAFT had produced, and at the moment everything was going well. His wife had just given birth to their first son, his shift would be over in ten minutes so he could return to his wife and see their child, and the entire day had gone perfectly.

The man slowly turned his head to the guardsman on duty with him and said cheerily "All I need now is a pay-rise! Think fate can be generous enough for that too?"

Instead of the guard's answer came a cold, flat voice from someone behind him- Someone that shouldn't have been there.

A man with long brown hair wearing a black trench coat stood a few metres behind them, facing them directly but slightly hunched with head hung low, simply said "No" before his head lifted up, exposing his features.

His face, although slightly long, was handsome, with the jaw coming to a sharply pointing and triangular chin.

The strange thing was all his other facial features, all of them being neither too small nor too large. And his was a face that, even at a quick glance, appeared to possess quiet-yet-fierce intelligence. This made Brakashdul nervous…

Nervous enough to remember this newcomer was _inside_ a high-security ZAFT facility when he shouldn't have even got close to the perimeter.

As Brakashdul flicked off the safety-catch the sound of a blade slicing through flesh reached his ears from behind. When he turned around to face his fellow guard his eyes could find only another long-haired man in a trench coat and wielding a Double-headed Spear standing over a still, lifeless heap. He watched as the body's decapitated head rolled gently in its helmet from behind the corpse of his friend.

Immediately, he turned back to the first intruder and, while aiming for the heart, quickly squeezed the trigger. But as the trigger began to move the stranger moved too, his movement so fast that the rifle didn't fire before a metallic hand came down through the weapon, razor-like talons cutting the firing-pin and chamber with ease. A terrified Brakashdul inhaled to shout or scream, anything to call for help, but felt a set of gloved knuckles crush his vocal chords, his throat painfully imploding from pressure. As the taste and smell of blood filled his senses a further burst of pain erupted in his ribcage as the bionic claws stabbed into his chest. He felt the metallic claws grip his ribs as he was lifted clear off the ground and tilted forward so that the stranger's face was but a few inches from his own.

What little strength he had left allowed him to raise his head to see the face of his killer. He'd already accepted his demise, and now wanted only to look this murderer in the eyes and show him no fear.

But it didn't work exactly like that.

When Brakashdul looked into his eyes the cold chill of fear filled his soul and rotted his sanity, and almost instantly tears began running down his cheeks. Although the face was seemingly human, it's cold demeanour tore apart his resolve, and Brakashdul was once more a little child alone in his crib, surrounded by his childhood phantoms and wanting only for his mother to chase them away.

The stranger's face was cold and devoid of feeling. His left eye by itself would have been quite unceasing. The eye and it's surrounding flesh was no longer there, replaced by a perfect Bionic copy, the only things making it blatantly obvious being the gold-like metal it was made of, the few sharp edges and corners of the cheek-bone-replacing plate, and the circuit pattern on the albumin ('white') of the eye. Every detail, the lids, the eye-ball, the iris, all were a perfect gold, the augmentation also taking some space to the left/lower-left of the robotic eye. The right eye, however, was organic, the iris a dull matt black, as unemotional as him.

But then, when the horror seemed at its height, it grew worse. The intruder spoke unemotionally: "I am going to-".

Then the grip on the helpless guard tightened as the killer, closing his eyes, quickly inhaled through gritted teeth before the eyes burst open again. Now the right eye's iris had flecks of dark red amongst the original black.

The unholy creature before him seemed to change instantly from a cold, heartless shell to a twisted evil beast, the same human features now twisted into a menacing leer. The lips had formed a grin made purely of malice and cruel delight, and the eyes filled with open bloodlust, that one iris now diluted to a pure blood red.

It spoke again with a voice of hatred and cruelty: "-_really_ enjoy this!"

Before the whimpering wretch could even try to scream, Jonathan Freeman redefined sadistic brutality.

* * *

"Get this thing moving NOW! The first test is in only half an hour!"

The interior of the hangar was in chaos as maintenance crews and vehicles scurried frantically around, trying to get the new model Mobile-Suit _actually mobile_. So far the day had been a disaster in the hangar, with a circuit-breaker being installed in the wrong place, a technician vomiting over the control-system circuitry, a fire extinguisher falling off the wall (exploding and covering a ZAKU with dry powder), an overzealous forklift truck driver accidentally removing the new Mobile-Suit's foot, and the pilot herself nearly getting ran over by a rogue-if-not-random shopping trolley. Where the trolley came from was anybody's guess.

The Magenta-haired girl put her right hand on her head and let out what seemed both a sigh and growl, the stress making itself evident. Then she turned and, with her one hand still on her head and the other rested on her hip, walked to where the ZAKU had been plastered with 'Pricey Talcum Powder' to inspect the damages. She was too busy thinking of how the morning could've possibly been worse than it already had been to notice the technicians that were blatantly staring at her, the tight pilot-suit showing the feminine curves of her body.

She had only stopped a few metres in front of the unit for a few seconds when something gave off a loud bang.

"And now the left hand will fall off" she said out loud to no-one in particular with a voice declaring her resignation and surrender to Murphy's Law.

Sure enough, another pair of loud metallic bangs came from the unit in front of her and the ZAKU's left hand crashed to the ground, crushing the new control circuitry in the process, to which the pilot didn't even flinch.

She wasn't at the end of the tether anymore; she was hanging from the edge and holding on for dear life.

Over the month Lunamaria Hawke had been promoted _and_ demoted, shot, worked to near-death, stressed to near-death, billed and fined to near-death, shot again and almost done-in by a shopping trolley in the middle of ZAFT's primary facility. To top it all off she was suffering sleep depravation, hadn't been with a man since the end of the last war, and she was now behind schedule and needed to fix the new Mobile-Suit in only twenty minutes with a maintenance crew full of incompetent pervs.

It wasn't even funny to begin with.

All of a sudden the technicians working on the redecorated ZAKU and the other four ZAKUs around the large hangar abandoned their current assignments and ran to the new Mobile-Suit, arriving there in perfect sync with those already about it _finally_ getting the spare parts needed from a series of crates hiding behind the prototype, including spare control circuitry.

Not bothering to restrain herself, she bellowed loudly at the useless grease-monkeys before her, with only the _slightest_ sarcasm in her tone:

"Yes! Get to what I told you to do a half-**FUCKING-HOUR-AGO!!**" which she quickly followed up by muttering to herself "stupid pervy shit-stabbers!"

* * *

Fifteen minutes left until the test was due and still no sign of the unit on the fix.

They had already found the hangar, disposed of the guards and bugged the door with a throw-away optical-fibre camera, which had given them all a good laugh with watching a ZAKU with a white-powder mullet drop it's hand onto some expensive-looking circuitry.

At the moment the technicians were working on the last part of the new model, and were about to give it a test power-up. He was just waiting for the successful power-up before he would begin.

This was a pretty Grand job he was doing now. The disadvantage of his profession was thus: if there wasn't conflict he had no use.

Jonathan Freeman smiled to himself, and then smirked while slowly shaking his head. He would always be useful because humans were never peaceful, and at least one side of a political or religious difference would always want to pick a fight with another. His job was to help them do that… in exchange for a little tip from the treasury, that is.

Him and his boys were mercenaries of the highest quality, so high that in the two years since the end of the 'Destiny Wars', when they became mercenaries, they had never turned down or failed any of their Hundred and Fifty Three offered assignments to date, ranging from assassination to spying to simply wiping out entire platoons.

If you could name a job, they could do it, and usually do bonus work for you.

This job was particularly serious though, one that Jonathan himself was willing to give the title 'Extreme', so this mission was absurdly expensive. Sabnack was still recovering from shock for finding out that the group hiring them had _paid in full_ before-hand! After all, the price demanded was enough to run a small government for the best part of half a decade. Two more jobs like this and they could retire for life, and Freeman, the oldest of the four, was still only twenty-five.

Suddenly, all the maintenance crews stepped back from the new Mobile-Suit as the not-so-familiar sound of the electric system's boot-up cycle echoed throughout the closed hangar.

A technician emerged from the cockpit and called out to his workmates:

"Everything's working lads! The ZGMF X-89B is working, armed and ready for the trial!"

Everyone in the hangar cheered in triumph, having earned their day's pay in only quarter of an hour.

"Then you are of no further use to us." Muttered Jonathan flatly, while silently radio-signalling his team to continue.

* * *

"What do you mean 'necessary'? Didn't you learn _anything_ from the wars?"

She couldn't believe it! They had all seen it before. Why couldn't they just let peace grow? What were the words she had put to Dullindal at the start of the last war:

"_Powers too powerful will only bring conflict!_"

She was furious at this imbecile in front of her. Not only did he have the military ignore the agreement to disarm, but he actually had new Gundams made without letting the Chairwoman know about it.

The High Marshal had actually _kept_ information from the Chairwoman!

She carried on, her rage building as she remembered Armoury One:

"Making new Mobile-Suits will bring outrage from every nation on Earth! Why have you done this, even after all we've been through?"

Now she could barely restrain the tears that fought their way to the surface.

"Do you _want_ another War?"

The officer she was following quickly turned on his heels to face her and said sharply:

"I would remind you, _Miss Attha_, that the Eurussian Federation and the state of Canada continued their weapon development programs Long before ZAFT did."

Cagalli froze. She was speechless. Even though he noticed the young politician's expression the Marshal's demeanour didn't change as he turned back and continued walking, speaking again as he stepped away:

"In fact, ORB never _stopped_ it's munitions research program. You shouldn't be the one reprimanding us."

A tear rolled down her cheek. She tried to shout something back, but her newest bodyguard, one that Kisaka had hired for her soon after the destruction of 'Messiah', spoke coldly to both the officer and her first:

"It doesn't matter which sinner was first in their crimes or last. Now that they are guilty neither has the right to cast stones upon the other."

Without stopping, the Marshal turned his head and called back to him:

"Then why are you throwing them?"

She looked at her Green-haired bodyguard in shock, hoping to receive some inspiration or answer.

All she got was a sigh and the statement "I _really_ shouldn't bother."

* * *

A woman with long pink hair strode through the base complex with a close-protection military escort, looking for a certain High Marshal that had kept ZAFT's rearmament a secret from her _and_ the entire council. She turned left around a Mobile-Suit Hangar and immediately caught sight of the Marshal she was looking for…

And an old friend as well.

She quickly strode over to where Cagalli was standing, taking note of the few tears running down her cheeks, although she was quickly caught off-guard when around three metres away.

The surprise came from one of Cagalli's new bodyguards, a man with light-green hair grown slightly long. His hair hung seemingly naturally over the left side of his face hiding his one eye perfectly, his other eye boasting a deep purple.

As the stranger stepped in front of his employer he pulled twin Automatic rifles from holders strapped to his belt, cocked the first rounds into the chambers, and aimed the two weapons at Lacus' two rear-most escorts, holding the automatic weapons at arms length effortlessly. No-one had time to react to the action before he was already aiming.

With perfect calm in her voice Lacus simply said "I am Lacus Clyne. Lower your weapons. I wish to speak with the representative."

His answer came unemotionally: "Identification."

"Lower your weapons Mr Andras. She's who she says she is."

The young blonde woman stepped forward and smiled appreciatively to him as he re-holstered his weapons.

"Yes Ma'am" was all he said before he took his position standing to the rear left of her, still cautiously eyeing them all.

As Cagalli wiped the stray tears away, Lacus managed to say the words: "Nice to see you again, Cag-" before the ground shook violently from the nearby explosion.

**End Chapter pt 1**


	4. Intermission: Inside His Mind

'Freeman…'

'-Freeman…'

His eyes slowly opened, instantly adjusting to the gloom of his apparent whereabouts.

'-Freeman…'

He had fallen asleep after his assignment's completion again, which was starting to become a bit of a habit. Though, in truth, who could honestly blame him? The tasks Jonathan was forced to endure rarely bordered on anything other than treachery and genocide.

And, of course, suicide…

'-Freeman…'

Jonathan walked soundlessly through the field, through the masses that lay strewn about.

Broken.

Torn.

Bleeding, or bled dry.

'-Freeman…'

He was bleeding, too.

Not physically. Something he couldn't describe, he just knew, just felt it slipping from him.

'-Freeman…'

The constant fatigue was beginning to subside. Slightly.

But that fatigue would always be there, always trying to consume him, always eroding his mind… And a soul he felt he didn't have.

'-Freeman…'

Training. Duty. Honour. And sheer faith in all he still had to hold dear to him. That's what pulled him through all the hard times these days, the only reason he still completed all his assignments to the level of perfection he was designed for.

But once a mission was complete then nothing remained to stop him from blacking out. Never more than twenty seconds, but after every single mission, as predictable as day turning to night.

'-Freeman…'

As he walked he thought of his childhood, of his freedom…

The death of the LOGOs.

He remembered the day they finally collapsed, and running from the facilities to escape sharing that fate…

And he remembered every face that he had ever left to die.

'-Freeman…'

A painful thought played over in his mind, just long enough to almost break the stoic expression, almost cause fault in his march that he kept strong and perfect with false pride:

"Now that she knows what I am, will she finally leave? Will she ever take me in with open arms again?"

It was impossible to say for sure, he knew her well enough for that.

But there was no more denying the truth he wished he could change.

'Project: Designed; Unit 0022/Extended; Unit 0002: Jonathan - Freeman…'


	5. GTMS pt2

Chapter 2 pt 2

**Chapter 2 pt 2**

"_Everything's working, lads! The ZGMF X-89B is working, armed and ready!"_

_Everyone in the hangar cheered in triumph, having earned their day's pay in only a quarter of an hour._

"_Then you are of no further use to us", muttered Jonathan flatly while signalling to his team to continue._

* * *

His boys had finished fixing the X-89B at last, and he was just standing back and admiring the work they'd done on what command had called the "Templar" class.

The Master-Technician took a further step back, and turned to go outside through the door into the access corridor at the side of the structure --

* * *

Kashiib pressed the button on the transmitter, signalling that he was beginning the assault, as he walked into the corridor that led into the hangar's side.

There was a good seventeen or so metres to the door, which was a simple, 225mm thick, reinforced steel on two hinges, with a simple, reinforced steel latch to keep it closed.

As Kashiib began to accelerate at a rate others would have considered phenomenal, if not impossible, he pulled the twin automatic pistols, with their silencers already fixed, from their holsters and flicked off the 'safeties', all the while saying out loud, "We really did stretch ZAFT's wallet last March!"

When he was only two and a half metres away he jumped, full pelt, at the armoured door, kicking it from its hinges and into the hangar with ease –

* * *

As the Master-Technician stepped towards the 'Eastern' door it suddenly snapped clean off its hinges and flew into the hangar… at him.

As the door flew toward him a man with twin pistols, long, brown hair and black clothing, flying with the door, began firing his weapons into the group of maintenance personnel closest to the alarm on the opposite wall. The Technician froze as it happened, his limbs refusing to move an inch, his only option to watch the door travel the dozen or so metres from the wall to him at breakneck speed, turning over toward him in the air. Even if he could have moved he couldn't have moved in time.

His last thoughts were of how he narrowly escaped Armoury One's attack, even managing to sound the alarm after being badly wounded. His thoughts were cut short abruptly by the top edge of the now-horizontal steel door ploughing through his skull.

* * *

Jonathan watched through the optic fibre camera in the 'Southern' door as the hangar was breached by Kashiib.

Within the space of only seconds his old friend had kicked an armoured door off its hinges and a good sixteen and a half metres into the hangar, removing a bystander's face and neck somewhere on the way, as well as then opening up on the other technicians about the place while standing on the door. He was standing on the door! Kashiib Sebehk was effortlessly wasting ZAFT personnel with head-shot after head-shot while standing on a flat lump of almost nine-inch-thick steel, currently sliding across solid concrete at over thirty-four kilometres per hour. Damn, did that guy like showing off!

Jonathan, taking his cue from the movement of the mechanic closest to the 'North' wall alarm, quickly jumped to his feet bringing the rifle up to his shoulder and breaking the Southern door open in the process.

His attention momentarily wandered to a flash in the corner of his right eye: a quickly reacting guard had opened fire on Kashiib, only to miss as his target moved too quickly to follow with his aim. Instead of actually hitting Kashiib, all he managed to do was to shoot a female pilot through the bone of the forearm and draw his target's attention.

The instant blood emerged from the pilot's arm Jonathan was sniping to his heart's content, laughing quietly as he did so. When Kashiib was in the vicinity, or any of the guys for that matter, the best person for someone to shoot was themselves. Jonathan turned and bolted toward the guards at the building's main doors after dropping twelve mechanics with twelve rounds in only five point two four seconds.

* * *

Almost immediately after hitting the floor, Lunimaria found herself being dragged behind one of the new mobile-suits close by.

The individual pulling her behind cover was probably a medic, since he was the closest person to her when she was shot. He was saying something about it being okay and something else, but she wasn't listening. She didn't listen to the shouts and weapon-fire either.

There was just the pain to her. A bullet had just sliced through the bone and left a hole through her forearm, and it really hurt.

The medic did something to her arm, probably to stop the bleeding, and a jolt of pain went through her.

There was pain.

She didn't know how long it took, only that it felt like forever.

Another jolt of pain burned through her arm as the medic tightened the fabric wrapped round the wound, and Lunamaria had to desperately hold in a scream of pain as her vision blurred.

So much pain. She could only think of the pain.

Something was injected into her neck… and almost instantly the pain receded. The arm still felt numb but she could at least focus and see straight. It still hurt, but not as much.

She heard the medic speak to her:

"You stay out of harm's way then, okay?"

She looked at the man and nodded a silent yes.

As he stepped away to help others he turned the corner, and immediately his neck burst open in a spray of blood and shattered bone. Instantly, Luna was fully aware of the small-arms fire, the running, the screaming, and the cold air clawing at her lungs and her mind.

She couldn't scream, or run, or help.

All she could do was hide.

Instinctively she crawled into the nearby Mobile-suit container, under one of the new Mobile-suits, and sat there hugging her knees silently. Almost immediately the hangar went silent, and Lunamaria waited. She waited for someone to find her and make this nightmare end.

* * *

Freeman fired the last round of the magazine into a guard standing by the now dead Technicians on top of the X-89B and pocketed the empty magazine before slinging the rifle over his shoulder.

"Well, that's them done nicely", Freeman chuckled to himself as he turned about to check his team.

It was actually a lot of fun being a top mercenary, and it helped him with getting out all the resentment he had toward the world.

Something bothered him though…

Something about his life bothered him, constantly sitting at the deep corners of his mind.

But Freeman chose to ignore it, and concentrate on keeping it hidden at the back of his mind. Enjoying the job made him far more effective, and he needed to be effective, within his only use, to survive.

As he stood quietly admiring the silence his thoughts were interrupted by the querying voice of 'Colony Boy'.

"Hey, Freeman?"

"Yes?" responded Freeman inquisitively.

"How many new models are we stealing, again?"

"Two: X-89B and X-97B."

"Ooookay" replied Sabnak slowly, before adding the details on his issue: "I think Intel fucked us on the unit count again."

Sebehk and Freeman turned about to look at Sabnak… and the new Gundam model he was standing next to.

Sebehk spoke up first: Wait, isn't that…" he said with slight confusion in his voice, as he pointed to the Gundam model he was himself standing beside. Then, with a look of total confusion plastered across his face, he pointed toward Freeman's neighbouring unit. Then Sebehk dropped his hand to his side and, with an incredulous look thrown at Sabnak's discovery, shouted loudly to the world: "Oh, you are bloody JOKING!"

Seemingly ignoring Sebehk's outburst, Sabnak turned to Freeman: "What are we doing about this one, then?" he shouted loudly across the hangar.

For a few seconds Freeman looked at the three new units in turn while assessing the situation carefully but quickly.

"New plan, lads!"

Sabnak's reply came immediately. "Outline?"

"Seb, X-97B; I take X-89B; Sabnak…"

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas."

Sabnak smirked to himself as he turned. "Swagged."

* * *

Damius looked through the gap in the door and towards the Hangar where the others were, ignoring the group of obvious politicians who had congregated outside. What in God's name were they doing? This was taking too long.

Far too long.

He was about to radio-signal that he was in place again when the ground shook violently from what must have been a horrendous explosion… an explosion inside the target Hangar.

Damius kept his balance and footing completely despite the shockwave and his deep concentration on calculating likely occurrences that could have slowed them down a full hundred and five seconds. He couldn't help but verbally swear:

"Fucking wanker!"

This was it: ammo-spray time!

As he stepped out of the doorway and away from a miniature sea of corpses concealed inside, he received radio signal from the others simultaneously. They were getting the 'Packages' at last.

The weapon module on his back folding into place on his left forearm, the

9mm-Barrel module connecting into place at the front of the firing module, he started choosing his first target group and spoke openly to himself.

"Shit! Let's get fuckin' dirty!"

Thirteen individuals in target group.

Up to seven hundred and fifty rounds per minute.

Thirteen more corpses.

New targets: acquiring…

* * *

"Swagged."

Freeman turned back to X-89B and went to run into the first 'Package'.

That's when the Stealth section of the Operation prematurely died. The automatic rifle belonging to Freeman's last kill had fallen from atop the target unit and was rapidly heading to the floor… without the safety on…

A rare look of horror spread across Freeman's face as he instantly calculated events. Immediately he gave the command "Down!" and ducked to the floor himself. He knew exactly what would happen. He knew the trajectory.

When the rifle struck the ground the firing pin shook itself into striking the round loaded in the chamber, the projectile then firing from the weapon and both penetrating and igniting the fuel tanks at the opposite end of the Hangar. The resulting explosion destroyed several ZAKUs and removed the back of the structure, as well as sending a huge shockwave in all directions.

Oh bugger.

Big, BIG bugger.

All three of the mercenaries immediately jumped to their feet and sent the last radio signal of the mission to Damius while running to their respective Units.

Freeman could have sworn he heard a feminine shriek of terror at the time of the explosion, but decided it was unimportant.

Whoever it was, they may as well already be dead.

* * *

As Sabnak ran to the X-92B he caught a glimpse of something under the Unit that instantly held his attention: a female-pilot suit with a female in it.

That pilot could give them a small but now essential tactical advantage.

He jumped down next to the young magenta-haired woman and spoke loudly and clearly over the background roaring of flames.

"If you come with me you'll live."

Startled, she simply looked up at him, all her thoughts and feelings showing upon her face. He looked down at her confused, frightened eyes, seeing the panic and sorrow. Sabnack understood all of it, understood the pains she must have felt. He did something then that he knew would likely backfire.

He offered his hand, and said with soft kindness, "Let me save you. Please."

Lunamaria looked at him, looked at the sincerity and concern in his eyes and the hand he offered her.

She saw the kindness and care in the eyes of the image of darkness.

She also saw that she had no real choice, save for that of an early death.

She reached out to take his hand with the one she could still use, and immediately he leaned down and effortlessly lifted her up in his arms, carrying her with him as he jumped onto the MS and into the cockpit.

At that he immediately set her down on her feet behind the pilot-seat and stated bluntly, "You won't like me, but obey and you'll live. You're no use to ZAFT dead."

He knew it would get her attention, and it did, but he could spare no time now.

"I need you to tell me something," Sabnak informed her as he took the pilot seat hurriedly and unfolded the system command keyboard.

Lunamaria was shocked almost to the point of silence. "What?" was all she could manage to say.

"Which suit was yours." Sabnak ordered more than asked as he began typing furiously.

"Uhm, Ex Eighty Ni-"

"THANK YOU VIENNA!!"

A small buzz came over the Comms, and Freeman's voice entered the cockpit: "Sounds like ya' got some Foster's in there."

Sabnak wasted no time, immediately getting to work.

"Freeman, we got help. Don't ask, just listen to her. You-" he snapped, addressing the female pilot, "tell him the start-up cyc, AFAP!"

At the moment his speech stopped, the main engines of the Mobile-suit roared into life and the construct began to self-right onto its feet. Even though the sound of the mecha's activation was deafening, the magenta-haired pilot began to call commands: "Freeman! Close circuits Alpha through Charlie, One through Seven! Re-boot CPUs M-One through Eight, C-One through Six! Start-up stand-cyc PM Fourteen! Re-boot CPUs M-Nine through Twelve, V-One through Three!"

Moans of frustration and irritation were barely audible as the ZAFT pilot gave command after command, which allowed the Mercenary sitting next to her a smirk of amusement: it had been quite a while since anyone had really tested Freeman's patience so well.

As he typed away at the Command Keyboard a small icon appeared on the display to show Sebhek was now on the Comms too, but the lack of Sebhek's voice indicated he was only listening.

The weapons systems hummed through the test-cycle and the Mobile-suit was fully operational.

Just then: "Fuckin' 'Ell luv, _don't_ slow down for _me_."

Sabnak stopped everything to burst out in laughter, accompanied by Sebhek laughing hysterically over the Comms lines, followed quickly by light applause.

* * *

Another wave of bullets tore through a group of technicians not far from Andras' position… not far from the representative.

Andras immediately grabbed Cagalli's arm and, dragging her and Lacus Clyne with him, ran behind the Hangar beside him.

It was just in time, as another wave of bullets shredded the escorts they were previously with, bodies and blood being scattered across the cold concrete.

Only one thing ran through his mind: the representative MUST survive!

And the best hopes of accomplishing that objective lay in the Hangar, even if the inside had just exploded. After all, they may not be LOGOS standard, but ZAFT Zakus could still take an obscene beating.

Wordlessly, he pulled the two representatives into the Hangar and instantly began assessing the interior's situation, taking note of the number of corpses strewn across the entire building, before spotting what he was looking for.

A ZAKU! And it looked to be in good condition too.

Again he wordlessly pulled the politicians to the mobile suit and, holding each by the waist, jumped onto the Mobile-suit's arm and then up to the chest at the entrance to the cockpit. He then lowered both into the cockpit and jumped in himself. As he jumped into the cockpit he saw something familiar and disturbing from the corner of his eye.

Him…

It was him…

Unmistakeably him…

Orga Sabnak.

* * *

It was funny really.

The turning point of the Valentine war was the theft of ORB's prototype mobile suits from Morganraete.

The start of the second war was the theft of ZAFT's third generation of mobile-suits.

Now they were stealing ZAFT's fourth generation of mobile-suits, and it would likely start a third war.

Sadistically funny really.

From the images on the Vid-screens he could distinguish three things:

Freeman's X-89B and Sabnak's X-92B were operational as well;

The rest of the Hangar had been completely torched;

The three of them hadn't been raped by rapid response… yet.

Hopefully Damius would at least draw some attention from their metaphorical "If-you-have-a-weapon-I'm-in-here" neon sign of an infiltration fuck-up.

But Damius existed in the real world, and the team all knew too well that, no matter how tough you could build things, nothing was truly indestructible.

For the first time he could remember, Kashiib gave a quick open prayer for his artificial brother-in-arms.

Then the unheard-of happened: Kashiib _didn't_ notice two voices join his prayers over the Comms system.

* * *

An absolute guarantee.

"I'm dying."

Isaku knew he was bleeding excessively from what was left of his torso, and it was only a matter of time now. He didn't have any way of moving to get help, and even if a medic could survive getting to him there'd be little left to patch up.

Although he knew it should be strange to be this calm, he didn't feel like it was strange to him in the slightest.

Of course he just _had_ to see what shot him after he lost thirty five per cent of his bio-mass.

'An insult from life added to the injury of death,' he mused.

Another huge explosion, louder and closer than the first, echoed through the concrete, and Isaku calmly turned his head to see.

The calm disappeared fairly quickly.

An unfamiliar Mobile-suit, probably experimental, burst from a nearby Hangar, wrenching the sliding blast-doors outwards with such force as to shatter the reinforced guide-rails.

Isaku was suddenly overcome by a rush of energy, as he somehow managed to lean up and forwards. Of course the day had to be topped off by the biggest BASTARD piece of the bloody lot from the guide-rails screaming towards _him_.

As his last full sentence to be proud of, he just let it out on the spot, shouting over the almost impenetrable din of twisting bulkhead and whining servo-motors:

"Oh for FUCK SAKE! WILL YOU ALL JUST PISS THE FUCK OFF!!"

For the most part, everything then went rather 2D.

**End Chapter**


End file.
